What Doesn't Kill Us
by Dorrica
Summary: "You're just like me. You don't belong here, either." When Randall Boggs is banished into the human world, he encounters the cruelty of man, alligator-infested waters, and historical hurricanes. But his true test of endurance comes in the wake of the storm, when he finds himself in the company of a 500 pound Siberian tiger. Inspired by "Life of Pi". *PART ONE COMPLETED*
1. (PART ONE) Into the Wilderness

**Title: **What Doesn't Kill Us

**Summary: **"You're just like me. You don't belong here, either." When Randall Boggs is banished into the human world, he encounters the cruelty of man, alligator-infested waters, and historical hurricanes. But his true test of endurance comes in the wake of the storm, when he finds himself in the company of a 500 pound Siberian tiger. Inspired by "Life of Pi".

**Rating: **T (for language and violence)

**Disclaimer: **The film "Monsters Inc." is property of Disney and Pixar Animation. The film adaptation of "Life of Pi" is property of 20th Century Fox, and the novel for which it is based belongs to Yann Martel. I make no profit from these writings.

**_Author's Note: _**

Assuming people are actually reading this and didn't read the summary, burst out laughing, and then move on to something else**, **I feel like I should give a little background into the making of this story. As stated in the summary, I got the idea for this story after watching "Life of Pi". I just happened to catch the movie on HBO one night. I had already missed about half of the movie, but it was the second half of the movie that the story really started to pick up. From then on, I was pretty enthralled and I kept watching. Had I actually planned on sitting down one night to watch the movie from the beginning, I probably would have thrown my hands up in frustration and changed the channel, as the heavy religious overtones got pretty annoying after a while. But I love a good survival story, and that's the only thing that kept me invested when I finally did sit down to watch the movie from the beginning. But after multiple viewings of the movie and watching Pi's struggle to survive, my mind started drifting to Randall and his struggle to survive in the human world, assuming he managed to survive being beaten by a shovel. The movie sort of reignited my desire to write a Randall-centric story that involved him trying to survive in the human world. And then just for the amusement of it, I started imagining him in the presence of a tiger, which seemed comical and very nonsensical at first. But the more I thought about it, the more I started liking the idea. I never really intended to write an actual story about it, at least not with a tiger, because it just seemed so silly, but the idea had already taken root in my mind, and it wasn't going away. I've seen many authors touch on Randall's banishment, many of them involving him meeting up with a human child, or even an adult (usually female). I've even seen some stories involving him meeting up with other banished monsters. But I don't think I've seen too many stories involving him with some kind of animal. But one thing I've noticed about almost all of these stories that involve Randall's banishment is that the stories don't really go into a lot of detail about it. They mention it, but we don't really see it. They mostly gloss over the details of how he lived in the human world. In fact, the whole living out in the wilderness aspect of it is usually very short lived. Usually he winds up in the care of a human. Even before I got the idea for this story, I've always wanted to write a banishment story with a "Cast Away" feel to it, but I knew it'd be a big endeavor, and the amount of research that had to go into this story was unreal. Almost any story requires some research, but I had to research EVERYTHING. And in addition to just doing online research, I actually purchased and read one of Les Stroud's books. And in case anyone's wondering, yes I also read "Life of Pi", something I feel I probably shouldn't have done. I was afraid reading the book in addition to watching the movie would affect my writing too much, which I don't think it really did, but one thing I did with this story that was also done in the book was divide the story into three different parts, with part 2 being the bulk of the story.

As far as how I feel about "Life of Pi" itself, I have many, many issues with it. And for those who have also read the book, you can probably understand what those problems are. The one thing I DID like about it though was, of course, the story with the tiger, which is ironic given the message of the book, which is precisely what I DESPISED about it. But it was with that one plot point that I created this entire story. I'm trying to make this story stand on its own, which isn't easy. Though it was inspired by "Life of Pi", I wanted it to be a completely different story. It's a survival story, yes, and it involves a tiger, sure, but I wanted to give the story its own identity, which was nearly impossible, and I don't think I executed it very well. But that's up for the readers to decide. But since this story IS inspired by LoP, there are definitely moments in the story that were inspired by parts of the movie and I'm sure you'll known them when you see them. But one big difference between this story and Martel's is that "Life of Pi" is really a religious story with a survival tale woven in. This story is PURELY a survival story. This is not about Randall having faith in God, but rather having faith in himself and rising to the greatest challenge that has ever been put before him. It's about self reflection. This story is definitely one of my most challenging, and I only hope that people will enjoy it. Of course I'm well-aware that this story will likely not have a big audience since it doesn't have a trace of romance in it. I didn't know how far the story would go, but the further along I got, the more excited I became about sharing it with the community, but I felt as though I was actually the *only* one getting excited for it. I tried to promote it the best I could, which I always feel silly about doing. But there just wasn't much of a response. And again, I chalk that up to the fact that Randall doesn't bang anyone in this story lol. I guess we'll see how it does now that it's officially up.

I admit that this story is full of cliches, and I apologize for that. Sometimes it's almost impossible for a story to be without them. And yes, even though it was never officially confirmed that Randall was banished to Louisiana (as far as I know), that is the location I have chosen for this story.

**_Acknowledgements: _**

Special thanks to BadgerWolf for giving me lot of encouragement with this story and expressing a lot of interest in it. Despite not knowing how this story would be received, I felt confident knowing that you were looking forward to reading it. I just hope it lives up to your expectations.

Also, a lot of credit, once again, to Les Stroud and also wilderness-survivalDOTnet. Their knowledge was tremendously helpful.

* * *

_"It's important in life to conclude things properly. Only then can you let go. Otherwise you are left with words you should have said but never did, and your heart is heavy with remorse." - _Yann Martel, _Life of Pi._

* * *

PART ONE

_Survival_

Chapter I: **Into the Wilderness**

"Git it, Mama! Git it!"

Fighting back had seemed like a rather foolish thing to do, as far as Randall was concerned. The only thing he cared about at that moment was getting as far away from these people as possible. Each blow he took to the head just put him one step closer to unconsciousness, and he couldn't risk that. There was no telling what these people might do to him once he was rendered helpless. He rolled over just as the shovel was brought down a fifth time. It struck the floor loudly where his head would have been, and he felt for certain that blow may have been the one to do him in had he not gotten out of the way. "Where you goin'?! Git back 'ere!" Running was the only option now. He knew that crazy woman was chasing him, the shovel raised high above her head as she tried to get close enough to deliver another ruthless blow, but Randall's speed was superior. He fled through the clearing surrounding the trailer, making his way for the woods nearby. He could hear the human begin to fall behind, but still he fled, taking cover behind some thick brush and trying to will himself to blend with his surroundings. He panted heavily as he peered through the vegetation, finding her blurry silhouette a few yards away.

"You better not come back 'ere!" he heard the woman shout some distance away. He waited there for quite some time, his heart pounding madly against his chest. Feeling a warm, trickling sensation, he lifted his hand and touched it to the front of his head. He pulled it back to reveal a glistening smear of blood, prompting him to quickly recover the wound with his hand in hopes of stopping the bleeding. It wasn't until after he had had a moment to calm down did he begin to feel the pain of his injuries. Fight or flight mode and the rush of adrenaline had pretty much canceled out the initial pain, but _now _he felt it, and at the moment, he had nothing to properly treat the wounds. Of course his biggest concern at the moment was getting back into the monster world, and he already knew that the door he had come through had been destroyed. And as far as he could tell, there were no neighboring trailers or homes, but what he did recall seeing was a vehicle parked just outside the trailer, which had looked to be some kind of delivery truck. This meant there had to be a town nearby that the humans likely commuted to.

Hope and anxiousness swelled within the reptilian monster as he kept a close watch on the trailer. He waited patiently for nearly an hour, and that was when he finally saw the lights go out, indicating that the humans had finally retired for the night. Slowly, Randall eased his way out from the cover of the brush and stepped out into the clearing, the tall grass tickling his sides as he cautiously approached the now quiet trailer, spotting an algae-covered body of water (a swamp) out of the corner of his eye. Remembering how the woman had mistaken him for an alligator, he paid close attention to where he stepped, just in case there were any lurking nearby. He stopped and surveyed the area, noticing a trail leading away from the trailer, which was likely his road to civilization. Drawing closer to the vehicle, he was able to read the "Pizza Planet" logo. He had a quick peek into the passenger window and saw the inside of the car to be a mess, old receipts and various forms of trash scattered about the seats and floorboards. The thought of possibly hot-wiring the truck crossed his mind, but he dismissed this idea fairly quickly, certain he'd alert the humans of his presence, and he couldn't risk that.

Randall walked around to the back of the vehicle and opened the truck cap to have a look inside the back. Though he could make out various items inside the bed of the truck, he had to actually climb inside to figure out what they were. He was able to make out three fishing poles, a tackle and tool box, and what looked to be an old, worn out backpack, which undoubtedly belonged to the human boy, as it looked like a bag used for school. Oh, and of course, more trash. It seemed as though this vehicle was the catch all for anything and everything. A quick look inside the backpack revealed binders and a couple of textbooks, confirming his assumption. Lacking interest, he set the bag aside and looked up. Noticing the small, square window leading into the cab of the truck was partially opened, Randall slid it all the way open and eased his way through it. He searched the entire inside of the truck, hoping to find something other than trash. Opening up the glove box, he dug through the clutter. His fingers brushed against something smooth and cool, and he immediately grabbed for it. He discovered the item to be a lighter, which he promptly tested out of curiosity. A small flame burst to life on the first try. Randall shifted the lighter into one of his lower hands, deciding it'd be a useful item to hold onto.

Looking down into the passenger seat, Randall noticed what looked to be a small notebook with the "Pizza Planet" logo printed across its front. Flipping through some of the pages, he noticed various addresses and orders scribbled in pen. He decided to hold onto this item as well, figuring he could probably use the paper to start a fire if he needed to. He next peered under the seat, noticing what looked to be a small clear plastic box. He slid it out into view and was quite relieved to see that it was a first aid kit, though he had to admit that these humans didn't seem like they'd even have the foresight to possess such a thing, although the kit itself looked cheap. Inside were the essentials: bandages, band-aids, cotton balls, and a small bottle of antiseptic spray. Remembering the backpack, Randall reached through the window and pulled it through, removing the heavy textbooks. Throwing together a survival kit seemed like an odd thing to do, he had to admit. He was certain he'd find the nearest town fairly soon, but he had always believed in expecting the unexpected. A storm could roll in out of nowhere, and he'd need to hunker down and build himself a shelter. He'd definitely need the right tools to do it if need be. Hopefully there would be no need, but he thought it better to play it safe.

Randall slipped the first aid kit and the notebook into the bag and immediately continued looking around for more useful items. He noticed a bottle of water nestled in the truck's cup holder and scowled slightly. The bottle was half empty, and there was no telling how long it had been sitting there. There was also the sickening fact that a human had placed their lips on that bottle, but Randall already knew humans being toxic to monsters was pure myth at this point. Even so, the thought of drinking from that bottle still disgusted him. He put his discomfort aside, however, and tossed the bottle into the bag. He kept reminding himself that he needed to plan ahead and be ready for anything, and water was by far the most important thing. He continued his search, looking between and under the seats for anything that might have fallen to the floorboards and rolled out of sight. Finding nothing, he climbed back into the bed of the truck and started looking through the tool box.

His greatest find was a flashlight, though the light it produced was yellow in color and quite dim. He next discovered a large Ziploc bag containing a large quantity of nuts and bolts. He opened the bag and dumped its contents into the tool box, keeping only the bag itself. Looking next to the tackle box, he found several spools of fishing line and hooks of various sizes. He plucked the items from the tackle box with a hint of doubt regarding their purpose to him and continued rummaging through the box's many compartments. His eyes flashed with interest as he pulled a large, red pocket knife from the very bottom of the box. He carefully withdrew the blade, impressed by its size. He checked this item off as a 'must have' and continued his rummaging. He next found a thick bundle of nylon cord, which he knew could serve for many purposes. He then scanned the bed of the truck for anything else, noticing a worn out long-sleeve shirt lying in a wrinkled heap just two feet away. He picked the ratty old thing up with the tip of his tail, pulling it closer to his face to examine it. He gave a shrug and tucked it under one of his lower arms, figuring he could use it as a head covering if it _did _happen to start raining without warning.

Satisfied by his choice of items, Randall hauled them back into the cab of the truck and tucked them away inside the backpack. He unlocked the passenger door and quietly slid outside, clutching the bag in one of his lower hands. He paused as his eyes caught a glimpse of his reflection in the side view mirror mounted on the door of the vehicle. He leaned in slightly to get a better look at himself, cringing when he saw the large gash near the base of his front frond, which he noted was still oozing blood. He reached down into the backpack and pulled out the first aid kid, not wanting to let his wounds go untreated a second longer. He grabbed for the bottle of antiseptic spray and dampened a cotton ball with a few quick squirts. Gazing back at his reflection, he began to gently dab the gash with the cotton ball, wincing slightly as he felt a slight sting. He then grabbed for two of the largest band-aids available and placed them against the wound, side by side. Once that was done, he slid the first aid kit back into the bag and lifted it up, happy that the bag wasn't too heavy.

A narrow, dirt trail led away from the trailer, and Randall immediately took to the path, knowing it would lead him somewhere. The sky was clear and the moon was full, giving him ample visibility. Even as he made his way into a more densely wooded area, he was still able to make out each and every detail of his surroundings. The trail went on for quite some distance, which only added to the lizard-like monster's frustration. His time of banishment was going on close to two hours now, and the stress of the situation was adding to his fatigue. He hadn't eaten anything in over six hours as well, and he was well aware of the fact that it may be hours before he found anything close to civilization. But even amongst his eagerness to get home, there was a great deal of apprehension lingering there as well. What would become of him when he returned to the monster world? Would he be arrested? Sent to prison? Or would he just be chucked back into this forsaken dimension, left to fend for himself in a world that would surely reject him? Such possibilities were more than enough to make him stop and consider his options. But really, what choice did he have? He couldn't stay here. He'd never survive, he knew this. If starvation didn't claim him, then insanity surely would. The hardest thing to believe in all of this was just _who _had put him here. He hadn't really expected anything less from Wazowski, but to think Sullivan, the monster everyone had adored and thought could do no wrong, had sentenced him to death and done so with glee...

_You'll pay, Sullivan. I swear, you will._

As Randall ventured further along the path, he could have sworn he heard the distinct sound of footsteps. The crunching of leaves and the snapping of twigs sent the reptile-like monster into high alert. His fronds perked slightly and he whipped his head from left to right, instinctively blending with his surroundings. It could have been anything, he knew that, but his first thought was that perhaps it was a human. But something about the way the footsteps sounded made him dismiss this possibility. It just didn't sound like how a human would walk. But then they stopped, and all remained quiet for several seconds. He waited for a moment before allowing himself to reappear, still listening intently. In spite of the full moon above him, he could only see so far, and the fact that he was near-sighted didn't help matters, either. The tall trees cast shadows, creating dark areas for things to lurk, adding to the lizard's paranoia. He slowly continued on his way, wide eyes shifting madly from left to right. _It was probably just an animal. Stop getting so worked up, _he assured himself. But upon hearing a loud snort, he stopped and spun around. Oh, it was an animal all right.

There before him, just twenty feet away, stood a large black bear, and its eyes were set squarely on him, its nose twitching as it took in his scent. Randall paled slightly and his entire body went rigid. This creature was twice his size, possessing teeth and claws that were longer than his fingers. He was staring death itself in the face, this he knew. His response was crucial, but how exactly he responded was the challenge.

Pulling his lips back in a snarl, Randall took a threatening step forward and unleashed a loud roar, lifting his arms up and standing on his back set of legs in order to make himself appear taller. _Make yourself look bigger. That's what you're supposed to do._

The bear took a startled step back in response, but any sign of intimidation he may have had vanished in an instant as he charged towards the monster.

_Or…was it play dead?_

Randall turned and bolted into the woods, dodging as many low hanging branches as he could, though he still managed to get smacked in the face on occasion. He seldom ever looked back, knowing the animal was on his heels. He swerved and zigzagged, looking for a safe haven, while somehow managing to not trip. He ran as long as his body would allow before finally leaping up to grab onto a low hanging branch, slipping off his backpack and tossing it to the side. And then he climbed, climbed as high as he possibly could. He knew, of course, that the animal could climb the tree, but its bulky size and the denseness of the branches made it somewhat difficult for it, whereas Randall was able to weave his way up with very little struggle. He climbed almost to the top and perched himself, peering down at the large predator as it continued to ascend, though it struggled. Randall quickly allowed himself to blend, hoping he could throw the animal off and discourage it from pursuing him. The bear seemed to pause and look around as though in confusion. It sniffed the air and Randall held his breath, knowing this animal had a keen sense of smell and could still detect him, even if he couldn't see him.

Eventually the animal lost interest, and it slowly descended back to the ground below, but Randall did not move an inch. He watched silently from above as the animal circled the tree, lingering for a few moments before disappearing into the darkness. The reptilian monster sighed and leaned back against the tree, finally allowing himself to relax. Opting to play it safe, he remained in the tree for a little over an hour, always fearful that the bear was somewhere close by, waiting for him to descend so that he could pounce and devour him. Once he felt confident that the animal had moved on, he slowly made his way back down, legs trembling with a still lingering fear. He sought out his discarded backpack and had a look around, his heart dropping into his stomach as he fully realized the situation he was in now. He had been forced to leave the trail, and he had absolutely no sense of what direction he had come from, and everything looked the same to him now. He began to breathe heavily as panic once again overtook him.

Slipping his arms through the straps of the backpack, he finally chose his path and quietly made his way through the woods, always keeping alert. He held out hope that he would find his way back to the dirt path, or even stumble upon a paved road that would no doubt lead him into a heavily populated area. But unknown to him, civilization was, in fact, one mile to the west. He was heading east.

ooooooo

After several hours of trying to navigate through the dense terrain, Randall finally gave out, picking a spot under a tree and practically collapsing to the ground. He rested his head against the trunk, shutting his eyes for a brief moment as he tried to digest the horror of his situation. He was lost. There was no denying it anymore. He was lost, and he was lost in a world that was not his own. Knowing there was a very real possibility that he would die out here, all alone and completely forgotten, triggered a very nauseating feeling of hopelessness. He spent a great deal of time wondering just _how _he would die. The possibilities were endless. He could die at the hands of an ignorant human, or be mauled to death by a dangerous predator. There was also the very real possibility of starvation and illness. All of these possibilities swarmed around in his mind like angry hornets, tormenting him to the point where he thought he might weep.

_You idiot. Get it together, you haven't died yet. _

Death was not something he should have been thinking about. It was something he should have been trying to avoid. This was a challenge, after all, and Randall had never been one to back down from a challenge.

_Keep it together, Boggs. This is your greatest challenge yet. Survive. Keep that word in mind. _The frazzled reptile-like monster slowly rose to his feet. _S - Size up the situation. U - Use your senses. R - Remember where you are. V - Vanquish fear. I - Improvise. V - Value living. E - Expect the unexpected. _Randall closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. _S - Size up the situation._ Exhaling heavily, he had a look around, finding nothing but dense forest. This was the wilderness, and he had absolutely no experience in this type of environment, nor did he have any kind of survival training. He had never even so much as gone camping when he was little. The only knowledge he had to go by was based on what he had seen in the movies and one or two educational TV shows he had only watched out of boredom. Humans were just one of the many dangers he faced, and they may not even be the _most _dangerous. Of course, humans were just as much his salvation as they were his downfall. Humans were the only thing that provided a way back to his own world. Unfortunately, he didn't have the slightest inkling as to where he was. Monsters knew of every country and continent that they inhabited, but Randall couldn't pinpoint where he was exactly just by looking at his surroundings. He was somewhere in the United States, this much he knew. Where at exactly still remained a mystery to him. All he really had to go by was the climate. It was fairly late in the year, and the air still felt incredibly warm and humid, giving him an indication that he might be somewhere in the far south.

Given the fact that it was night time, he knew there were probably other predators lurking around for something to eat. It wasn't an ideal time to try and navigate_. _He was tired, and his entire body ached from his earlier ordeal. If he faced another threat in his current state, he knew he'd be as good as dead. With that, he turned and started easing his way up into the tree, finding a suitable branch that was thick enough to support his weight and gave him plenty of room to stretch out. After getting settled, Randall opened up the backpack and took inventory of its contents: two spools of fishing line, a bag of hooks, a small flashlight, a lighter, a Ziploc bag, a large pocket knife, a bundle of nylon cord, a long-sleeve shirt, a first-aid kit, a bottle of water, and a small notebook and pen. These items, which he had only taken with him as a precaution, had now become his lifeline. He only hoped that his use of these items would be very limited, and that he'd find his way out of the wilderness in a timely manner. He hoped.

After hanging the backpack on a branch just above his head, Randall stretched out his body to its full length, allowing his legs to hang limply. He laid his head down and shut his eyes, doubtful he'd be able to get any sleep at all. At least the chirping of insects was soothing.


	2. First Day, Second Night, Second Day

Chapter II: **First Day, Second Night, Second Day**

Randall awoke feeling anything but rested. He had spent half the night trying to navigate his way through the forest, so most of his opportunity for sleep had been completely lost. He could hear the rustling of leaves as a gentle breeze slipped between the branches, and he slowly opened his eyes, finding his surroundings to be bathed in warm sunlight. He could tell it was still quite early, but already the temperature was quite warm, and he figured it would only get warmer as the day progressed. He could already feel the sweat clinging to his scales. There was also just too much moisture in the air, making it incredibly muggy. He could tolerate a dry heat, but this was just too much. This only confirmed his suspicions of being somewhere in the south, though this kind of heat couldn't be normal for this time of year, even in this region. A warm front must have been moving through.

Grabbing the backpack containing his supplies, Randall began descending from the tree, noticing how stiff and sore his body was as he did so. Once both sets of feet were planted firmly on the ground, Randall began to turn counterclockwise in order to fully take in his surroundings now that those surroundings were illuminated by the morning light. Unfortunately, everything looked just as much the same during the day as it did at night. But he knew he had to start somewhere, and so he hastily picked a direction and started walking. He always remained vigilant, not wanting to let his guard down for even a second, not after the events of the previous night. There was a very thin morning fog lingering in the air, creating a bit of a challenge for Randall's already poor vision. Morning dew clung to every surface imaginable, making the leaves and plant life shimmer in the sunlight and making every last spider web stand out even from a distance. Upon closer inspection of one of the webs, Randall noticed a spider making hasty work of its newest catch, spinning the insect in a tight cocoon before then proceeding to eat it. This brought Randall to the realization of just how hungry he was. He took a moment to try and remember the last time he had eaten anything, and he realized it had been over fourteen hours ago, and even his last meal had been more of a snack, really. The last twenty-four hours had just been one big roller coaster ride of events, resulting in very little sleep and little to no food. He hadn't even taken his lunch break at work yesterday. From the very moment he had discovered that the human girl he had tried to obtain for his experiment had escaped, he had rarely taken a moment to rest. He hadn't slept at all the night she escaped, as he had spent the entirety of that night trying to find her. It was only thanks to the production of dopamine that he was even able to function at all the next day, but that had already run its course. Now he was truly feeling the effects of his exhaustion, as he was approaching forty-eight hours with next to no sleep.

Randall placed a hand to his empty stomach, glancing around at his surroundings. Eating any sort of vegetation was likely out of the question, as he was unfamiliar with the plant life, and he knew there was a very real risk of being poisoned. But the thought of having to hunt and kill for food made his stomach churn, in spite of its emptiness. No, he would _not _stoop to such a primitive level. He would only be in this world for a limited time, anyway. As long as he kept himself hydrated, he could withstand the hunger. And with that in mind, he reached into the backpack and fished out the bottle of water. He sloshed the water around in the grooved, plastic bottle and tried to determine how long it would last him. He couldn't gulp the liquid, that much he knew. If he was conservative with what remained in the bottle, he figured he could make it last him for about three days. Surely he'd wander his way into some sort of town or village before that time anyway. He untwisted the cap on the bottle and brought it to his lips, tipping it upward carefully and letting the warm water slide into his mouth. He cringed at the temperature, wishing it was colder. The tiny sip was hardly enough to quench his thirst, but it at least relieved some of the dryness in his mouth.

The monster trudged onward, keeping a sharp eye out for any sign of civilization but also studying the foreign environment. Even if he would never admit it out loud, he couldn't help but admire the beauty of the forest, which truly wasn't much different than the woods of his own world. Sure, the wildlife was somewhat different, but the terrain was remarkably similar. Trees of varying sizes towered over him, some of them looking to be centuries old. Randall occasionally had to duck, as many of the trees' branches hung quite low. Spanish moss hung from many of those branches, brushing the top of his head and shoulders as he walked along. Indeed, very beautiful but also equally eerie. There was so much vegetation and plant life that a predator could literally hide anywhere without being noticed. Randall's paranoia escalated as the hours dragged on, prompting him to blend every time he so much as heard the slightest rustling of leaves. By mid afternoon, Randall's hunger was almost unbearable, and the forest only seemed to be getting denser. His moments of rest became more frequent, and resisting the urge to down every last drop of water in that bottle was becoming increasingly difficult.

His frustration mounted. Frustration at everything: himself, the world (both his own and this one), Sullivan and Wazowski, and even that human child. His anger demanded an outlet, and it was then that he remembered the little notebook he had stashed away inside the backpack. Stopping to rest momentarily, Randall managed to fish the notebook out of the bag and turned it to a clean page. He slipped the blue pen out of the spiral and began writing hastily, his usually smooth, elegant handwriting becoming quite sloppy as he let his anger flow through the pen.

_Day 1: I don't know who in their right mind thought banishment was a suitable punishment. And to think monsters can be banished for the most finite crimes. While I don't know exactly where I am, I have the strangest feeling Wazowski knew exactly where he was sending me. The most logical thing to do right now would be to look for civilization. Where there's civilization, there's children. Where there's children, there's a door back to the monster world. But it's not that simple. I thought it'd be, but it's not. I have no sense of direction, and everywhere I look is the same. I've had an hour of sleep at best, and I've had nothing to eat. The only thing sustaining me at this point is a half-empty bottle of water and just sheer willpower. But I'll get through this day. And the day after that and the day after that if that's what it takes. They're insane if they think they can get rid of me that easily. _

The lizard shut the book and tossed it back into the bag with a sneer, feeling very little satisfaction. But though his anger still burned, he clung to those last few words he had written. He _would _find his way back, no matter how long it took.

ooooooo

His second night in the human world was approaching, a less than encouraging realization. This meant he could no longer travel and would have to hunker down until morning. The greenery that surrounded him now looked more orange as the sun slowly descended from the sky. _Just a little further _he kept telling himself, even as his surroundings kept getting darker. Why he continued to hold out hope that the trees would thin out and he'd find some sort of major city or town, he didn't know. Eventually, his prolonged hunger and the amount of energy he had spent became too much, and he stumbled to the ground. His arms shook heavily as he tried to push himself up, but it had all become too much for him. More than two days without food or sleep had finally taken its toll, and the heat had _also _contributed to his exhaustion. Now he struggled just to hold onto consciousness as he crawled across the ground, his thoughts of death that he had tried so desperately to will away into the deepest pit of his mind resurfacing once more to taunt him as he staggered and wobbled about.

Finally managing to stand erect again, Randall leaned against a tree for support and reached a shaky hand into the backpack to retrieve his bottle of water. His throat was so dry now that he couldn't even properly swallow. He eagerly twisted the cap and lifted the bottle to his lips, but before he had a chance to take a drink, he gave a loud shriek of horror as a horde of black spiders emerged from the mouth of the bottle and began crawling across his hand. He jumped back with fright, dropping the bottle to the ground as he shook his hand wildly. Looking down at his hand, he saw that the spiders had vanished, and a quick glance at the bottle showed no indication that there had ever been any inside it. His heart sank when he saw that most of the water had been expelled from the bottle and was now seeping into the earth. He reached down to pick up the bottle, noticing it wasn't completely empty. He tilted his head back and downed the last of his water supply, wondering if he'd be able to find another.

Hoping he'd be able to use the bottle to collect water elsewhere, he simply placed it back into the bag, which was becoming much heavier with his decreasing strength. As he tried to push onward to find a decent location to settle down for the night, he could have sworn he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. It seemed as though the trees were closing in on him, even moving. He twisted and turned every time he thought he saw movement in his peripheral vision. But when he saw the branches of the trees reach out to grab him like sinister, boney hands, he shrieked and started running. He changed his course of fleeing constantly as the branches continued to reach for him. He even thought he saw dark, hollow eyes on those trees.

Randall dove inside a hollowed out log and lay as still as his trembling body would allow, oblivious to the fact that he probably should have inspected that log for any inhabitants. Once he allowed himself to catch his breath, he gathered the courage to poke his head outside and have a look around. Everything was calm again. The trees were still and looked perfectly normal, but he wasn't about to venture back outside, not until morning. As real as it all seemed to him, he was still cognitive enough to know this was all due to lack of sleep.

With eyes as heavy as lead, Randall started to lie down, hoping he could get enough sleep to at least allow him to function. But as he started to close his eyes, he felt something crawling across his hand, which he immediately thought to be a spider after his earlier hallucination. Slowly lifting his hand up, he saw what looked to be a large beetle. His first instinct had been to flick the bug off, but as he felt his stomach give a loud rumble, he quickly dismissed that idea. Cringing in disgust, he shoved the bug into his mouth, resisting the urge to vomit as he heard the sickening crunch. It was by no means appetizing, and he nearly vomited as he tried to force the thing down his gullet, but he couldn't be picky. He had hoped it wouldn't have to come to this, but he just could not ignore his hunger any longer. He brushed aside dead, moist leaves in search of more insects, wishing he had some water to wash the taste out of his mouth. He ate just enough to dull his pangs of hunger, but he knew the relief wouldn't last long. He would need more to sustain him for long periods of time than just a few insects, but they were at least a good source of protein, and they would certainly be easier to catch than larger game.

Randall pulled the backpack around to his front and rested his head against it, hoping it would be more comfortable than the dirty, hard ground beneath him. What little bit of sunlight that remained had finally faded away, and now Randall found himself in total darkness, save for the soft glow of the moonlight. His frazzled nerves eventually settled, and he was finally able to succumb to a much needed sleep.

ooooooo

When Randall finally awoke the following morning, he could barely swallow. It was as though someone had shoved cotton balls down his throat. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he inched his way out of the log, finding the weather to be quite different than it had been the previous day. Looking through the canopy of trees, he could see that it was completely overcast, and he could feel the tingling sensation of a misty rain. Looking down at his arms, he could see the moisture collecting on his scales. Driven by his extreme thirst, he lifted his arm and sucked at the tiny beads of moisture, which weren't much of a help. He did notice, however, that the ground was very wet, too wet to have been caused by a slight mist in the air. A heavier rain had apparently come through earlier.

It took a bit of effort, but Randall was able to push himself off the ground to where he was standing on just four legs. He circled the vicinity, looking for even the tiniest source of water left over from the brief shower. When he stumbled upon a large, discolored leaf with the tiniest puddle of rainwater nestled in its center, he nearly cried. He knelt before it and carefully placed both hands on either side of it, lifting both sides upward so that the water couldn't roll off. He ever so slowly lifted the leaf off the ground, bringing it just above his awaiting mouth. He let the water slide off the front of the leaf and into his mouth, which practically absorbed every drop of it before it could even make it down his throat. He continued scouring the ground, drinking up every puddle he could find until he was satisfied. But even when he managed to address the issue of hydration, he still needed to find something to eat.

Randall turned over every rock and leaf in hopes of finding an insect or two, but as he did so, he couldn't stop himself from imagining being back home in his apartment at that very moment. It was usually around this time on a Saturday morning that he'd be getting out of bed. He would normally sleep in until about nine when he knew he didn't have to be at work. There was never any rush on a Saturday morning. In fact, he usually didn't bother with setting the alarm clock. Once he was out of bed, it was straight to the kitchen to make his coffee, something he could never go without. Two cups were usually his max, but when he wasn't in a hurry for anything, he would have a third cup. Occasionally he would cook himself breakfast, but on other days when he was wanting something quick and easy, he would usually pop a breakfast bowl in the microwave, which contained pretty much every typical breakfast food he liked to eat. His home had been his sanctuary, and he had taken it all for granted. He never imagined he would walk in to work one day and never be able to return home. For the first time since he had been banished, he stopped to think about his family. What would they do when they realized what happened to him? _Would _they find out what happened to him? It's not like Sullivan and Wazowski would actually tell the CDA the truth about what they did to him, not unless they wanted to face jail time or possibly banishment themselves given the fact that what they did had been completely unlawful.

This realization prompted Randall to rise to his feet and gather the little bit of cargo he carried with him. He couldn't allow them to get away with this. Even if he ultimately ended up facing legal repercussions for his actions, he was determined to take those two down with him.

ooooooo

The thick, gray clouds gradually broke apart as the day progressed, allowing sunlight to filter its way to the ground below. The forest came alive with the loud chatter of birds and insects, a sound that, to Randall, soon became akin to claws on a chalkboard. His thirst had returned fairly quickly, and the burning sensation of hunger had plagued him since the early hours of the morning. He scoured the ground for the littlest source of water, but there was nothing. Nothing clean, at least. He imagined the small, muddy puddles of water on the ground were already infested with mosquito larvae. Finding anything clean seemed impossible. Common sense told him not to be so picky, but he was still so accustomed to life back in his own world. He tried desperately to tune out the deafening sound of the insects in order to hear anything that sounded like a moving river or stream. He needed a _moving _water source, something that wasn't stagnant and thus wouldn't be as likely to host parasites or bacteria. Oh how he longed for the days when getting his hands on a cup of coffee was his greatest concern. Water had always been so readily available to him, whether through the tap at home, a water fountain, or the water cooler at work. Now the element, which had once been as plentiful as air, had taken its place on the highest shelf of rarity. It was like trying to find gold.

Stumbling upon a rotting log, Randall used every bit of strength he could muster to turn the thing over, exposing the moist, rich soil beneath its rotting underbelly. Oh what a smorgasbord. Grubs, pill bugs, beetles, worms, every possible creepy crawly he could imagine wiggled and scurried about as their habitat was disturbed. He plucked every last grub from the soil and devoured them hastily, becoming less and less bothered by their unappetizing taste. This was a matter of survival, after all. He couldn't be bothered with satisfying his taste buds, though he vaguely pondered what the bugs would taste like if they were roasted over an open fire. For health reasons, he knew it was probably a good idea, anyway, but he would worry about that after he had managed to solve his water crisis. Right now was just a golden opportunity to replenish his much needed protein, and he had decided to jump on it.

As he made quick work of his late lunch, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. The object was unmoving, but he knew it wasn't a rock. He stepped away from the log and made his way over to where the object lay. Picking it up, he was immediately able to identify it as a turtle shell. Its condition was pristine; no cracks or breaks that he could see. It was an interesting find, but he ultimately tossed it aside, not seeing any importance in it. The unoccupied shell struck a jagged stone, causing its base to break. Randall glanced at the discarded shell when he heard the sound, seeing that a small section of its base had broken off. His interest returned and he quickly went over to pick up the shell again. He carefully broke apart what remained of the base, leaving only the top portion of the shell. What had once served as a reptile's protection now served as a monster's tool for survival. Randall slid the backpack from his shoulder and dug around for one of its contents. Feeling the stiff fabric of the long-sleeved shirt, he quickly grabbed for it and yanked it out, getting a good look at it for the first time. It would certainly come in handy if he were to find himself stuck here when colder weather approached, but he saw another purpose to the ratty piece of clothing. _I - Improvise. _Fishing the knife out of the bag, Randall cut away one of the shirt's sleeves, and then tailored the severed piece of cloth until it was a relatively small size. He then placed everything back inside the bag, including the turtle shell, before continuing on his quest for water.

Finding his way back to the monster world seemed secondary now. Certainly it was still important, but it almost seemed like a distraction. Spending all of his time in search of civilization was time that should have been spent looking for food. He had to balance that time, make a schedule perhaps. He couldn't let himself go hungry, and he certainly couldn't let himself get too tired. He would first need to get a better understanding of the wildlife, as certain animals were active during certain parts of the day. If they were anything like the wildlife in his own world, he imagined a good deal of the creatures living in the forest were probably most active during the early morning hours and late evening, which meant traveling during the afternoon was probably the best option. It would not be an opportune time to hunt for big game, and so it would be better spent trying to find his way back to civilization.

Making his way through the wooded terrain, he noticed the ground was becoming increasingly soggier. He at first thought he had wandered into an area that had seen a bigger dispense of rain, but he dismissed this thought when he felt himself sink into dark, algae-covered water. His face contorted into a look of absolute disgust as he raised his arms up. He quickly clambered out of the muck, grimacing at the algae that clung to his scales. The small bodies of water expanded for a short distance, their surfaces almost entirely hidden by the lime green algae. It was the first water source he had come across, and he swore he felt himself getting sick just looking at it. Drinking his own urine seemed like a better option. But remembering his plan, he quickly fished out the empty water bottle and leaned down to brush the algae away from the water's surface. He dipped the bottle into the stagnant water and filled it nearly to the top, grimacing as the transparent bottle became dark and murky. He capped the bottle and stored it back inside his bag before beginning to maneuver his way around the tiny swamps. He traveled for a short distance before making a stop to rest. The ground was relatively dryer there.

Randall cleared away a space on the ground to start a fire, something he had never done before. Not out in the wilderness, at least. He spent about fifteen minutes looking for the proper kindling, which wasn't the easiest feat considering everything was damp. He scooped up the driest twigs and leaves he could find and brought them over to the designated spot on the ground. He then paused to consider just how he was going to go about suspending the turtle shell off the ground. An idea in mind, he quickly began searching for two sticks of a medium size with forked ends, which was fairly simple, as there were plenty of sticks readily available to him. Once he found what he was looking for, he jammed the two sticks into the ground on either side of the wood pile. The monster then fished out his knife and one of the spools of fishing line, which he discarded to the side for the time being before turning his full attention to the turtle shell. With the knife in hand, Randall carefully cut two narrow notches along the edge of the shell, making sure they were parallel to each other. He then took the spool of fishing line and cut himself a short line with the knife. Slowly and tediously, he tied a small knot at each end of the line, which was not the simplest task. Once he had both knots tied, he slipped each end of the line through the notches, satisfied when he saw the knots catch against the narrow slits. Grabbing a third stick, he slipped the fishing line over it and then placed the stick atop the two forked sticks wedged in the dirt. The turtle shell was now suspended about six inches off the ground, directly above the small pile of firewood.

Before he attempted to light the fire, Randall retrieved his bottle of swamp water and the piece of cloth he had cut away from the shirt's sleeve. Untwisting the cap, he pulled the piece of cloth taught over the top of the bottle. He held the bottle directly over the overturned turtle shell and flipped it upside down, still holding the cloth tightly in place. The water slowly trickled its way through the cloth and into the awaiting turtle shell, much like coffee into a pot. The water came out noticeably cleaner, but there was still a murkiness to it that Randall was certain he wouldn't be able to rid it of. But once every last drop of water filtered through the cloth, he then focused his attention on getting a fire going.

Lighting the fire was a tedious process and demanded more patience than Randall was used to having. If he hadn't had the fortune of finding that lighter in the truck, he probably would have ripped his fronds from his head in frustration. He had the flame he needed, but getting that flame to take off and feed off the kindling was the hard part. He reached for the backpack and had a look inside, remembering that he hadn't completely emptied it of its previous contents. Seeing a large quantity of papers inside, Randall commended himself for having not dumped them out. He pulled out what he thought was necessary and crumpled them up, placing them in and around the pile. He then took a single sheet of notebook paper and twisted it in his hands before lighting the end of it. He slid the crinkled paper beneath the turtle shell and tried to get the flame to latch onto the tiny twigs and dead leaves. Having the crumpled pieces of paper seemed to help, as they easily ignited and burned, which helped ignite the rest of the wood. Randall continuously added leaves and pieces of dry bark to keep it fed, all while observing the water in the shell. Since it wasn't like boiling a pot of water on a stove, he had to wait significantly longer, but his patience eventually paid off, and he was able to see bubbles slowly begin to dot the inside of the shell Before long, steam was rising into the air as the water came to a boil. Seeing that his efforts had paid off, Randall smiled brightly, feeling more hopeful and proud of himself than he ever had since arriving in this forsaken world. Joyful tears gathered in his eyes as he relished in the relief of knowing he would live to see another day. He let out a choked sob as he wiped at his eyes, still grinning broadly, though he couldn't help but feel silly at being so emotional over boiling water.

He let the water boil for several minutes, wanting to be sure the purification was thorough. Just as the fire was beginning to dwindle, he lifted the turtle shell up and began to carefully pour the steaming liquid back into the plastic bottle, causing it to steam up. He did not cap the bottle, not wanting to hinder the cooling process. He sat the bottle off to the side, making sure it wouldn't be prone to tipping over. Unfortunately the water never cooled to an ideal temperature, and Randall knew he'd have to get used to drinking lukewarm water, but his thirst left very little room for pickiness. Once it was cool enough, Randall gulped nearly half the bottle. The water saturated his dry mouth and throat, making it moist and soft again. He gave a heavy exhale as he pried the bottle from his lips, reaching up a hand to wipe the corners of his mouth. Conquering his dehydration made him feel like a new monster. He swore from then on he would appreciate every drop of water he drank, never taking it for granted again.

Running his forked tongue along his pointed teeth, Randall visibly cringed at their texture. He had always been a monster of great oral hygiene, and he usually brushed his teeth no less than twice a day. He needed something, _anything _that could substitute a toothbrush. The minty taste of toothpaste was certainly preferred, but anything that was abrasive and could clean the surface of his teeth would suffice just fine. He poked at the bark of a few trees, never pleased with their texture. He thought about possibly chipping away a piece of bark with his knife in order to get to the soft fibers underneath, but that was when he felt himself kick something across the ground. Looking down curiously, he noticed a small pinecone, about three inches in length. He picked it up and rotated it between his fingers, frowning with mild skepticism. He then brought the pinecone to his mouth and began scraping it against his teeth, making sure to use a decent amount of pressure. He winced slightly as tiny pieces broke off into his mouth, and he quickly went to retrieve the bottle of water. He took a quick swig and swished the water around in his mouth before spitting it out, still cringing slightly. He hadn't even thought about the possibility of even being able to floss, but he suddenly remembered the fishing line he carried with him and he quickly cut himself a piece. It might not have had the same feel as dental floss, but it worked just as well. Randall felt the texture of his teeth with his tongue once again, only telling a slight difference in how they felt. Of course he never expected a pinecone to produce the smooth, clean feeling that only a toothbrush and toothpaste could provide.

After tending to the dying fire, Randall pulled the notebook from one of the many pockets of the backpack, realizing this was probably going to become a daily thing for him.

_Day 2: I'm still here, but I'm hopeful. I managed to find a decent source of water, and I was able to start a fire to purify it. It's probably the only stroke of luck I've had since I've been here. I've also discovered that pinecones make for a decent toothbrush, though I still prefer the traditional method. I think I once heard this saying that necessity is the mother of invention. It's amazing how we don't think about these things. Eating a microwavable dinner, having a tooth brush to brush your teeth, or just having a warm, soft bed to sleep in. You take it all for granted. You never consider the thought that these things could be taken away from you so suddenly._

Randall sighed tiredly as he sat the notebook aside, his own words weighing heavily on his mood. He crumpled a few pieces of paper and added them to the fire, strengthening the flames. Pulling what was left of the worn out shirt from the backpack, Randall laid his entire body down on the ground, curling himself up to hold in his warmth, and then draped the shirt over the upper half of his body. He stared silently at the flickering flames until his eyes became heavy and slowly drifted closed.


	3. Foreboding

Chapter III: **Foreboding**

_Simon and the tigers..._

Several miles away, on a three acre property, a man was hacking away at a bloody slab of meat.

Simon Kinley had become accustomed to the stench of the raw meat, as it was something he was in contact with every day. He cleaved away at the bloody chunks without so much as a grimace, even whistling a tune as he set aside the cleanly cut chunks of meat and grabbed for another. For ten years he had been doing this, and to him it felt just as normal and routine as washing a pile of dirty dishes. Once he had cut every last hunk of meat into a reasonable size, he gathered them into a large pail. With the pail in hand, he made his way outside, wincing slightly as the sunlight struck his eyes with incredible brightness. He lifted his free hand and held it just above his eyes in order to shield them from the bright rays. He made his way over to the large enclosure just one hundred yards away, smiling proudly when he took notice of the two big cats pacing the cage anxiously.

"Hello, my precious boys! How are you today?"

Hearing their caretaker's voice only seemed to add to the animals' excitement. Though neither feline could read a watch, they had a sense of time, and they knew when it was their time to be fed. Seeing the pail clutched in Simon's hand only cinched it for them, and they bounced around much like a domesticated dog would when seeing his master grab for the kibble.

"Yes, yes, I know you're hungry!"

The enclosure stretched about forty feet in length and was fifteen feet across. It stood approximately ten feet high and was surrounded by a perimeter fence, which extended just seven feet out from the main enclosure. At the very back of the cage was a large den box, big enough for both cats and near the front was a perch for them to lounge on. The enclosure was divided into two different sections, connected by a guillotine door, which was currently raised in order to give the cats free reign of the enclosure.

Simon opened the door of the outer fence and quickly shut it behind him as he stepped inside, not wanting to give the cats a direct line of escape in any chance they might break from their enclosure. The eager tigers pressed their noses to the cage and stood on their hind legs, gripping the wire fencing with their long claws. Simon held a grin as he walked around the perimeter, knowing the cats would follow his every move as long as he clutched that pail. He walked past the connecting point of the two enclosures, watching as the tigers slipped through the guillotine door. He sat the pail down and went over to grab the pulley, which was connected to the door. Unhooking it from the fencing, the door immediately closed, sealing the two cats in the back section of the enclosure. "I'll just be a second," he assured the cats as he grabbed the pail and went to open the door into the enclosure. Inside he found two metal trays, reddened by blood stains. Simon placed the meat onto the trays, making sure to divide it equally between the two felines. He quickly exited the enclosure and opened the guillotine door to grant the felines access to their meals. "Dorito, stop crowding Sonny! You've got your own food over here, dummy!" Simon scolded half-heartedly as he tried to distract the slightly smaller tiger away from the other's food. Dorito finally took notice of the awaiting slabs of meat and moved away from the other feline, who was beginning to emit a low growl of possession. With their needs met, the man turned and exited the perimeter of the enclosure.

Simon had been born and raised in the state of Indiana but had spent a great many summers with his aunt and uncle on Lake Pontchartrain, which had produced some of the greatest memories of his childhood. There had always been something new to see when he came to visit them every summer. One of the greatest joys of those memorable visits had been going to the circus when it just happened to be passing through town, which it did almost every year. He had loved everything about the circus, but it was the wide showcase of animals that always captivated him. And there was no animal more captivating than the big cats. They were tremendous in strength and equally graceful in the way they moved. They were like nothing else he had ever seen. It was there that the seed of his obsession had been planted, and he would spend many of his years learning everything he could about the animals, while setting aside money so that he could one day have one of his own, an idea he never spoke of to his parents.

At the young age of twenty-two, he finally moved out of his Indiana home and resettled himself in Louisiana, having grown to love the scenery and the culture during his visits to the state. The warmer climate was also an added bonus. He set to work the following year in making his childhood dream a reality, which was not an easy feat. So much of his savings went towards building the enclosure alone, which required the help of paid workers. Once he had made the necessary preparations, he set out to purchase his first cat, which happened to be a female spotted leopard. Many cats came into his life over the years, and he had certainly had his fair share of close calls. His body hosted many scars, all of which served as an important reminder of the strength and unpredictability of the predators he shared his life with.

How long he was to go on being able to care for his big cats, he couldn't be sure, as the sea of obstacles seemed to be getting denser. He knew it was only a matter of time before the state of Louisiana banned the private ownership of exotic animals. He always kept tabs on the laws that were being proposed, and while nothing had been passed yet, he was constantly on edge. He could always hope for a grandfather clause that would permit him to keep his animals if such a ban were to occur, but legality was only one of the obstacles. Money was the real issue, and it was something he had struggled with for quite some time. He remembered a time when one of his biggest goals had been to open a big cat sanctuary, but that dream faded just as quickly as it had come. Such an endeavor would have been too financially draining, and even caring for two cats left him with very little money to pay the bills, or even buy food for himself.

Stepping back inside his home, he immediately took note of its condition. His coffee mug still sat atop the small, round dining table, and beside it was an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. He also took note of the dirty dishes in the sink and immediately sighed. Keeping a tidy house usually ranked lowest in terms of importance, but he had to have clean dishes in order to eat. He took his place at the sink and washed his bloody hands, staring through the small window situated just above the faucet. It was here he had a perfect view of the enclosure, and it was only because of this that he was able to tolerate washing dishes. But just as he picked up a clean rag to begin the task, he heard his phone ring. He gave a sigh as he dried his hands on a dry dishcloth and stepped into the living room to answer it.

_"Simon?" _he heard a familiar voice ask from the other end of the line.

"Hi, Rob," Simon answered rather flatly, knowing his older brother likely wasn't calling to shoot the breeze with him.

"_Simon, have you been paying any attention to the weather?"_

"Is this about that tropical depression they've been talking about?"

_"It's not a tropical depression anymore. They upgraded it to hurricane status two days ago; it's a category two now! Damn it, Simon, if you'd stop playing around with those pets of yours, you'd know this!"_

"Why are you so bent out of shape about this? So what? It's still the hurricane season. Am I supposed to be surprised?"

"_If you were paying attention to the weather you'd know that they're predicting this thing is going to hit Louisiana head on!"_

Hearing this prompted Simon to pause for a moment. "C'mon, that's never happened. Not since I've been here."

_"Yeah, well that's what they're predicting. They think once it moves into the Gulf, it's really going to increase in strength."_

"All right, well I'll make sure I have all the essentials."

_"Screw the essentials, Simon! You need to get out of there now before it hits! I know you're used to these things just sideswiping you, but I'm telling you, this thing's going a different course!"_

Simon shot a quick glance to the enclosure outside, his panic rising. "I can't leave my tigers behind, Rob! You know that!" Simon could hear what he was sure sounded like mumbled cursing on the other end of the line.

_"If you stay there, you'll die. You understand? You're as good as dead! You need to get away from there, get away from the threat of a surge and take cover somewhere that can withstand the wind. Maybe a hotel or something."_

"What about my cats?!"

_"Leave them."_

The phone nearly slipped from Simon's grasp when he heard the short, curt reply from his brother. He had never considered the possibility that he may have to one day abandon his animals. Certainly the prospect of maybe having to give them up and give them to someone who was better equipped to take care of them always resided in the back of his mind. But just leave them to fend for themselves?

"No…No, I can't." Simon began pacing frantically, stepping in and out of the kitchen repeatedly.

_"Simon-"_

"No, I can't just leave them! I need to make preparations! Maybe I can get in contact with someone who can house them for a few days-"

_"Simon, you haven't got time for that crap! You need to get out of there no later than tomorrow! It could take you days just to contact someone! There's no time, do you hear me?! God, will you just listen to reason?" _

As much as it pained him, Simon finally conceded to his brother's words, sighing heavily into the phone as he breathed a dejected, "All right." Stepping back into the kitchen, he stood before the small window to gaze at the two felines, who he now saw were roughhousing with each other. "I'll get some things together tonight, and…I'll leave in the morning."

_"Good."_

Frustrated and defeated, Simon hit the 'Talk' button with his thumb before his brother could say anymore, slamming the phone face down on the counter. He watched as the tigers continued to play and run about in the enclosure, batting the large, yellow, plastic ball between each other. The dishes remained unwashed.

ooooooo

_Randall…_

_Day 5: I still struggle with the decision over whether or not I should even return at all, assuming I'm ever able to find a way out of these woods. I don't want to be here, obviously, but it's not like my life is going to go back to the way it was before all this happened. It's a lose/lose, no matter what I do. It's either rot out here in the middle of nowhere, or rot in a jail cell. It's like choosing between a colonoscopy or a root canal. It becomes a matter of picking your poison. The only thing that makes the prospect of returning seem rewarding is the thought of seeing Wazowski and Sullivan go to prison. Sullivan even more so. For once we'd be even. I can settle for even._

Rising to his feet, Randall sighed in annoyance as he found himself constantly waving off the mosquitos hovering near his arms and legs, which were already dotted with multiple reddish bites. He managed to find a patch of moist soil near the base of a tree, and he quickly dug into it, eager to try anything that might deter the pests. He rubbed the dampened dirt onto his arms and legs, which actually felt somewhat soothing against his itching skin. This seemed to repel the blood-sucking insects, though they still liked to hover close by the lizard.

Seeing that dusk was approaching, Randall decided to use what little bit of daylight remained to scour the ground for firewood. He quickly retrieved the large Ziploc bag he had brought along with him, originally not knowing what he would even use it for. Randall's biggest challenge to lighting a fire was the issue with tender and kindling not being dry enough. The paper he had was a great fire starter and it helped keep the fire burning, but he would eventually run out. He had already used up about fifty percent of it in just five days. There was still the notebook, but he really hated the thought of sacrificing the one thing that had served as an outlet for his frustration. Putting his thoughts on paper seemed to ease his tension, and it helped to clear his mind. It was probably the only thing keeping him from going insane at this point. He didn't want to give that up, but even if he had to resort to burning it piece by piece, it too would run out eventually. Twigs, sticks and leaves were always in abundance. There was never any threat of running out of these things, as he was surrounded by them. But they weren't always dry enough to burn. There had to be a solution to that.

The Ziploc bag was fairly large and could hold a large quantity of items. It also kept those items perfectly dry. And that's when it hit him, the solution to his problem. The idea of using the plastic bag to store firewood seemed ingenious, though he wasn't sure it'd work as well as he hoped. The idea was to fill the Ziploc bag with enough kindling to feed a large enough fire and just let it dry out. Anything he collected today wouldn't be dry enough to use until sometime tomorrow. But the bag would at least protect the firewood from any moisture, whether it be rain or morning dew. He stuffed the the bag full with sticks, leaves and Spanish moss and sealed it closed about halfway, wanting to allow the air to flow inside the bag in order to help dry everything out.

Once that task was complete, Randall began gathering the driest tender he could find to build a small fire for tonight. The wind was blowing slightly, which created a bit more work in getting the fire started, but he didn't see it as anything more than a nuisance. There was never an afterthought of it being a prologue to something much bigger.

ooooooo

_Simon and the tigers…_

In a span of sixteen hours, the weather had already began its foreboding transition. What had once been a gentle breeze was now heavy gusts, blowing over light-weight objects such as trash cans and lawn chairs. Simon had already loaded up a box of canned foods and bottled water and shoved it in the back of his car, which he was glad to see still had a half tank of gas. In addition to the winds picking up, dark clouds were beginning to creep along the sky above, constantly blocking out the sun. The storm had been upgraded again to a category three, and it wasn't too far from the coast now. He should have already been on the road an hour ago, but there were two very precious things holding him back. There had been a very brief moment where he had considered the idea of opening the cages and setting the animals free to flee from the storm, but he immediately chastised himself for ever thinking of doing something so foolish. He had seen countless horror stories of exotic pet owners who had released their animals, usually before committing suicide. There was never a happy ending for the animals, and he knew what the outcome would be for his if he were to release them. Even if the storm didn't manage to bring them down, a bullet to the head ultimately would.

The tigers were restless. They paced along their enclosure, sniffing the air and groaning in displeasure. They knew what was coming, and it made it all the more difficult for Simon to leave them behind. Knowing he could not relocate them to a safer location, he did the next best thing he could for them and made sure they were well-fed. After filling the metal barrel to the brim with fresh water, he prepared several pounds of raw meat, twice as much as what he would normally give them and sat it out for them to feast upon, which they did in spite of their distress. Simon pressed his hands against the wire enclosure and leaned in to observe the felines as they ate, feeling a lump forming in his throat as he tried to process the agonizing possibility of never seeing them again. "I'm sorry," he said to them, though they never looked up from their meals. "I'm sorry I didn't think this through. I'm sorry I didn't have the foresight to prepare for something like this. I know you don't fully understand what's happening now….or what's going to happen, and maybe it's for the best. But regardless…I'm sorry. Do you hear me? I'm sorry!"

By this point, Dorito lifted his head to briefly gaze at the man, licking the reddened white fur along his lips. He eyed him for just a moment before dipping his head back down to continue his meal. Simon was still lingering within the perimeter when the two felines had finally eaten their fill. Dorito approached the wire fencing of the enclosure and pressed his side up against it. Without hesitation, Simon crouched down and slipped his fingers through the cage, brushing the tips against the coarse fur for what could have been the last time. Dorito turned himself around and pressed his nose into the intruding fingers, turning his head to the side to rub his face against the digits. "Sonny frightens easily," he mumbled. "Look out for him. Keep him reassured."

Simon slowly straightened up. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Please be waiting for me."

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter caused me a lot of grief. I could never decide what I wanted to do with it. In an earlier draft of the story, the tiger's owner was only going to be briefly mentioned. I was originally going to just do a very short scene, introducing the tiger and not even give the human a name or backstory. But then when I started writing this chapter a few months back, I went off on a tangent and just couldn't stop. I started creating a story for this guy, and I felt like maybe it wasn't necessary, but I couldn't help myself. For those who may be wondering, Simon will make a second appearance in the story, but it won't be until the very end of Part Two.

And then there was the issue with even having Randall in the chapter at all. Originally he wasn't going to even appear in this chapter, but then I started debating with myself over whether it was a good idea to leave him out completely. I wanted to squeeze him in there somewhere, but then I feared that any scene with him would just be out of place in this chapter. Then there was just trying to figure out where to put him. The beginning of the chapter? The end? I ultimately decided on the middle because I felt it gave the readers a break from reading about a non-canon character.

And yes, the hurricane _is _heavily based on Hurricane Katrina, however the storm is never given a name in this story.


	4. The Storm

Chapter IV: **The Storm**

Randall's eyes flashed with excitement when he noticed the small, speckled bird nestled inside a nest. A bird was by no means an easy catch, but with the aid of his blending ability, he was certain he could sneak up on the winged creature and grab it. He had been feasting on nothing but bugs and worms for the last six days, and he was yearning for something different. A bird seemed like a nice upgrade, but it was still small enough. With his water rations being as small as they were, he knew big game was out of the question, as it took more water to digest a bigger kill, and this would only lead to dehydration, thus crippling him. The water he had gathered from the swamp didn't last him long. He had resorted to using the tattered shirt to soak up morning dew that collected on the leaves and grass, which he wrung out into the turtle shell to drink. It never amounted to much, but it had been better than nothing. He had finally caught a break when there came a brief, heavy shower. Randall had seized the opportunity and sat the turtle shell out to collect the rainwater. The shower had lasted for all of about ten minutes, but he had managed to collect about half a bottle's worth of water inside the shell. He was good for another day or two.

The bird suddenly took flight, and Randall's face fell slightly but only for a moment, as he suddenly realized what treasures the nest most-likely held. He made his way over to the tree and climbed up the thick trunk with ease, coming within inches of the nest. He stretched his neck out and glanced down into the nest, finding it to contain three small eggs. He eagerly shot out a hand and scooped them up, cradling them against his chest as he slowly made his way back down to the ground. One by one, he carefully cracked the eggs open and held them over his mouth, allowing the thick, yellowy goop to slide down his throat. Within seconds, the eggs were nothing more than broken shells on the ground.

The mother bird returned moments later, having no doubt left to find food for herself. Randall watched as the little brown bird hopped about on the nest, clearly confused over the disappearance of her eggs. She would leave the nest and come back, as though expecting the eggs would finally reappear every time she returned. Though he knew it was silly, Randall couldn't help the guilt he felt as he continued to watch the bird stress over the situation. He knew such feelings had to be vanquished, as there was no sense in having them in this type of situation, where staying alive was all that mattered. He did what he had to do to survive.

Randall retrieved his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He took a moment to take a quick sip of water, taking note of the fact that the bottle was almost empty again. If it weren't for the fact that he had to keep moving, he would have made it a top priority to find a primary water source that would sustain him. Had he been lost in his own world, he wouldn't have to waste nearly as much energy traversing through the woods in search of a way out. He could just signal for help and wait to be rescued, something that would surely get him killed in this world. Being discovered would mean his _death, _not his salvation, and he had to keep moving if he was ever going to find a way out. But he exercised caution when traveling, well-aware of his limitations. He stopped every thirty minutes or so to rest, always remaining in the shade.

As he made these periodic stops, he noticed various sets of animal tracks, all of them going in the same direction, and some of them even merging together. Randall didn't see the significance of this at first, but when he continued to come across these tracks, curiosity eventually got the better of him, and he soon found himself following a set of freshly-made deer tracks. The sight that eventually met him nearly made his knees buckle. He dropped his bag and rushed forward, oblivious to the possible dangers that might have been lurking just beneath the surface, and dove into the river, easing his way out into the deepest section. There he bathed himself, splashing his face and arms with the cool, refreshing water. It certainly couldn't compare to standing under the steam of a shower with a bar of soap in hand, but he wasn't complaining. He felt like a new monster as nearly a week's worth of dirt and grime was washed away from his purple and blue scales.

Once he was satisfied, Randall made his way back to dry land, sighing contently as he emerged from the water. What gave this water source its significance was the fact that it moved, albeit slowly. Moving water meant oxygen. Oxygen meant fish. Even better than the fact that this river provided him with food and water was the fact that if he followed its route, he would likely come across a community of humans living along its banks, as it was quite common for humans to live within close proximity to a lake or river. Things couldn't have looked better for him. This meant he could keep traveling without having to worry about where he'd find his next water source. A new sense of hope and calm suddenly enveloped him, and he was able to truly relax for the first time since he had been unwillingly thrust into this strange, unwelcoming world.

Of course his relief was only momentary, as he was noticing that the wind was increasing in strength. It had been windy all morning, and also the previous night, but now it was becoming rather bothersome. Sometimes he would be hit with a gust so powerful that he would stumble slightly. Randall immediately suspected that bad weather was heading his way, a possibility that was further indicated by the stressful behavior of the birds. Violent weather was the very last thing he needed to deal with, but he had been expecting it from day one. Rather than try to continue his travels, he decided it'd be best to set up camp and prepare for any possible nasty weather, despite it still being fairly early in the day. The monster had mostly taken to ready-made shelters, like hollowed out logs or trees, but now he figured it was time he made an attempt to construct his own shelter. He had more than enough material to make such a construction, but he didn't know where to begin. _Don't be stupid. If you could construct a major piece of machinery designed to extract the screams of children, I think you can throw together a lousy shelter._

Randall surveyed the forest in hopes of getting some sort of idea. His first discovery of interest was a large, fallen tree branch, which proved to be quite heavy when he attempted to pick it up. Getting a good grip on the branch, he swung it against the trunk of a tree, pleased to see that it did not snap. He then looked to the surrounding trees, showing interest only in two trees that stood parallel to each other. When he found two decent size trees with thick trunks, he attempted to wedge the branch between them about six feet off the ground. Once the branch was in place, he tugged on it slightly to make sure it was secure. He knew a lean-to shelter wasn't the best choice, but anything beyond that would just take too much time and energy. He would only be packing up and leaving the next morning anyway, and so there was no sense in going to that kind of trouble.

The lizard next began gathering as many branches of a relatively smaller size that he could find to lay against the main supporting branch. He placed them as closely together as he could, not wanting to leave too many gaps for rain to leak through. Once that step was complete, he then started breaking off low hanging branches with a vast collection of large leaves and draped them over the bare branches. He also tore off large chunks of bark from trees and placed it over his shelter as shingling, though he knew they probably wouldn't stand up to any intense winds. With this in mind, he fished the bundle of nylon cord out of his backpack and cut himself two long pieces to criss-cross over the shelter, hoping they would help in holding it together against the wind.

Once he was satisfied with his work, Randall moved to retrieve his backpack once again and searched its contents for the spool of fishing line. Fishing was nothing new to him, as he recalled a few childhood memories of going fishing with his father and sister. But that had been over a decade ago, and the experience was hardly a help to him now. Not to mention the fact he was lacking a fishing rod, which certainly made the process a lot easier. Simply fishing with a hook and line didn't exactly inspire confidence, but he wasn't about to be deterred. He had been feasting on practically nothing but bugs for days, and he was ready for a change of taste. He unraveled the fishing line until he had a decent length, and then began the tedious process of tying a hook, a challenge that made the prospect of catching a fish seem like a cakewalk.

After searching under a few rocks, he was able to find a small earthworm to use as bait. He then made his way to the edge of the water, where he saw a few tiny fish scatter upon seeing him. He allowed himself to blend as he eased into the water, hoping he could get within close proximity to the fish, thus making it easier to catch them. Once the water made it past his first set of arms he stopped and remained completely motionless. His feet had stirred up a good deal of sediment, which made it difficult to see. It took several minutes for it to finally settle again, but when it did, the lizard was able to vaguely make out a few small fish swimming near his feet. He kept the baited hook suspended above the water, not wanting to waste a good worm on something that would serve as little more than a snack. For a full twenty minutes, he remained as still as a statue, eyes shifting from left to right as he waited for his perfect target. The surface of the ordinarily calm bayou closely resembled crinkled tin foil as the winds carried on, showing no signs of dying. Randall would only tear his attention away from the water to monitor the sky, which was gradually becoming darker and more overcast.

Finally, after a great deal of patience, Randall noticed a sizable fish slowly inching its way towards him. He wasted no time in letting the hook drop into the water, the worm still twitching slightly. It didn't take long for the lingering bass to take notice of the bait, which it immediately investigated. The fish expanded its large mouth and practically inhaled the worm. It snagged the bait right off the hook before Randall could even react, leaving the hook completely bare and the bass quite satisfied. Randall heaved a sigh, though he wasn't surprised. He really hadn't expected to catch anything on the first try, but he was still disappointed.

Randall lifted his gaze as he prepared to make his way back to the bank and froze immediately, as he found himself gazing into the slitted eye of an alligator. His lips parted in a silent gasp as he gazed at the prehistoric creature, feeling unimaginably foolish for having let himself forget that such creatures were native to this part of the world. To think he had dove into this river without a single thought and splashed around like an idiot. Randall maintained his invisibility, though he was trembling severely. The reptile was so close he could almost reach out and touch it, but he didn't think it was even the slightest bit aware of his presence. The lizard held his breath and slowly began backing out of the water as the predator eased along. Once he made it back to dry land, he rested a trembling hand against a tree and took a few deep, shuddering breaths. Once he was calm again, he set to work at finding fresh bait, knowing now to be just a bit more cautious when he went into the water.

ooooooo

It took him close to an hour, but his patience finally paid off, and he managed to hook a large-mouth bass, which proved to be surprisingly strong for its small size. Tightly clutching the spool, Randall walked his way back to the bank, dragging the flopping fish onto dry land. He made his way back to camp, immediately retrieving his knife. Keeping the fish still, he brought the knife down just below the gills and swiftly sliced its head clean off, cringing slightly when he saw its mouth continued to open and close. As he gazed at the still gasping fish head, he recalled one of his fishing trips with his father and sister at the tender age of just seven years old. He remembered being horrified to the point of tears by the thought of his father taking the fish he had caught and actually cooking them to eat. It had been straight back to the lake with those fish, much to his father's displeasure. The irony of the situation almost made him laugh.

Randall carefully began cutting the scales away from the decapitated fish, revealing the pinkish flesh underneath, which oozed blood. Once the fish was clean of scales, he began cutting it into slabs, and then those slabs into chunks. Taking what remained of his water, he washed away all the dirt, and then placed the moist chunks into the turtle shell. The lizard then began gathering twigs and dry leaves to prepare his fire, adding the kindling he had collected in his Ziploc bag the day before to ensure it would ignite swiftly. He tried to build the fire close to the shelter, as it provided a shield against the wind. He had to cup his hand over the lighter in order to protect the flame against any heavy gusts of wind. Finding a small stick, he skewered the chunks of flesh and held them over the small flame to cook them. After just taking one bite, he quickly dismissed proper eating etiquette and began devouring the fish like a wild animal. The fish certainly had a better flavor than the bugs he had become accustomed to eating, and it satisfied his hunger as well.

Not long after finishing his meal, the lizard began to feel fatigue. After first extinguishing what remained of the fire and storing away his supplies, he immediately took refuge under his shelter, lying down on his stomach to rest. The wind produced quite a bit of noise, but it seemed to be blowing from behind the shelter, therefore Randall was protected from the brunt of it, though he noted with mild disdain that raindrops were beginning to patter against the ground. He pushed himself as far into the shelter as was possible and shut his eyes, feeling certain that, despite the bad turn in weather, he would be able to sleep.

ooooooo

Miles away, along the nearly deserted coastline, the warning flags flapped madly against the roaring winds, their cloth a bright, angry red that stood out in stark contrast against the darkened skies. Hour by hour, the massive storm crept across the Atlantic to the awaiting shores of the Gulf. Many of the coast's inhabitants had already evacuated, while others hunkered down and prepared to ride it out. And then there were those who didn't have the slightest inkling as to what was coming.

ooooooo

The monster awoke with a loud gasp as he suddenly felt the assault of heavy rain against his scales. Looking around frantically, he noticed that almost all of his shelter had been blown away by the powerful winds. Randall desperately latched onto his bag and sprang to his feet, though he was almost instantly knocked back down by a heavy gust of wind. His already poor visibility was reduced to almost nothing as the rain stung his eyes like dozens of pin pricks. He stumbled about and held onto the trunks of trees for support as the powerful winds showed him no mercy. In addition to the painful sting of the rain, he was constantly being bombarded by flying debris, most of which consisted of large tree branches. He draped an arm over his head to shield himself the best he could as the intense winds continued to painfully assault him with broken tree branches.

With little more than just a powerful will to live as his strength, he pushed through the rain and wind in hopes of finding a sturdier shelter, anything that could at least partially shield him from nature's onslaught. Rather than try to walk upright like he normally would, he kept to creeping across the ground on all four sets of legs, which gave him more stability. There wasn't much light to guide him, and everything was already lost in the blur of heavy rain. The only things Randall could possibly make out were blurry shapes. He grit his teeth in frustration and let out a loud snarl, which easily dissolved in the roaring winds.

The lizard came upon a cluster of bald cypress trees, each one being quite large in its own right, but one in particular was very unique in appearance, as its base was far more swollen than its neighboring cypresses, and its roots were heavily exposed and hosting quite a few cypress knees, which extended several feet into the air. There were large openings in the roots, wide enough for the monster to squeeze inside and take refuge, even if it was a tight fit. He ducked inside the roots and held on tightly to the tree's interior. He was relieved somewhat from the wind but the rain still beat against his face painfully. _V - Vanquish fear. _Gritting his teeth against the pain, he glared into the storm. "Is that all you've got?!" he screamed into the wind, not sure whether he was screaming at some sort of cosmic entity, or just nature itself. "I'm not going down that easily, do you hear me?! I've been knocked down all my life, and I've ALWAYS GOTTEN BACK UUUP!"

Randall winced and pulled back slightly, turning his face away from the harsh spray of rain. His hands gripped the roots tighter and he squeezed his eyes shut, hopeful that the storm would pass relatively quickly, but after nearly an hour, the storm only seemed to be getting stronger, and Randall noted with horror that water was gathering around his feet. As the storm became progressively stronger, the water continued to rise, reaching the lizard's ankles, and then almost to his knees. It wasn't the water itself that frightened him, but rather what may be hiding within it. Though the idea of leaving the cover of the tree roots wasn't appealing, he didn't want to risk another encounter with an alligator if the flood waters continued to rise.

Stepping out into the open, Randall fumbled his way atop the large base of the cypress tree, using the tree's knees to stabilize himself as the wind threatened to knock him back off into the water. He then took the backpack and looped the large straps over one of the knees before then slipping himself through the straps, clutching both the bag and the cypress knee as tightly as he could and hoping it would be enough to keep him anchored. He occasionally peered over the side to take note of the height of the water. It was still rising considerably, and Randall feared that it would eventually submerge the tree's base and sweep him away. But all he could do at that point was try to wait it out, no matter how long that took.

ooooooo

Several miles away, two anxious tigers were not faring much better.

The two animals had been pacing the enclosure up until the storm finally made landfall, and now they were forced to ride out the storm while taking refuge in the den box situated at the back of the cage. The two felines turned their heads at every sound, their ears rotating forwards, backwards and even sideways as the wind howled and knocked large pieces of debris against their enclosure. It was a maddening experience, and it showed no signs of letting up. Dorito seemed to be the most anxious of the two, whereas Sonny was lying very still with his head resting on his paws, though his agitation was still evident. Dorito jumped and growled at every sound, occasionally rising to his feet as though he was going to flee the safety of the den box. It was only when a large, metal trash can was knocked against the back of the enclosure that the feline finally bolted out into the open. It wasn't a pleasant experience, as he was immediately pelted with heavy rain, which stung his eyes and limited his visibility. However, there was no getting back to his sanctuary, for at that very moment, the incredible gale force winds and the saturated earth proved to be too much for the eldest and largest tree that loomed just thirty feet behind the enclosure. Its bark cracked loudly as it tilted forward, crashing down upon the enclosure. The fencing was quite deteriorated in some places, including the top section, thus the weight of the tree caused the fencing to actually break at those weak points.

Dorito had managed to avoid being flattened by the tree trunk, though he still found himself somewhat cornered by large pieces of the structure. Worming his way out from underneath the wire fencing, the tiger immediately sensed the distress of his companion, who had still been residing in the den box when the tree had collapsed upon it. Dorito edged towards what was left of the den, though he could not access it, as a large piece of wire fencing was strewn over it, pinned by the weight of the tree. Unable to do much else, Dorito came as close to the den box as was possible and lowered himself to the ground, picking up the scent of blood as he tried to smell for the scent of the other cat. The feline groaned slightly in an attempt to communicate with the other, but there was no response that he could hear amongst the various loud noises going on all around him. His nostrils flared and he huffed in distress, eager to make physical contact with the other feline. He remained like that for hours, no longer concerned about the raging storm going on around him. He continued to listen for any signs of life from the other cat, but all was quiet within the den box.

After several agonizing hours, the winds calmed suddenly, and the rain ceased. Dorito lifted his head, sniffed the air, and then rose to his feet, his fur still dripping after being doused by the spray of rain. He gazed solemnly at the den box, knowing now that his companion was no longer living. He stood there for quite some time, unsure of his next move. But realizing there was nothing here for him anymore, he managed to push past pieces of the broken structure and hoisted himself up onto the fallen tree before then leaping to the soggy ground on the other side of the enclosure. There he stood with even more uncertainty, as he had never known anything outside of that enclosure for most of his three and a half years of life. His instinct to stay close to the enclosure was difficult to shake, but his instinct to survive proved stronger, and the feline disappeared into the forest.

ooooooo

It was the strangest thing. It was almost as if someone had flipped a switch. Without warning, the rain suddenly ceased, and the powerful winds died as well, blowing at a gentle speed of about fifteen miles per hour, a mere breeze compared to what Randall had endured just moments ago. The exhausted monster slowly lifted his head and peered with tired eyes into the dark. The noises that surrounded him were his only indication as to what was going on. He unzipped the backpack and searched around until his fingers brushed against the cool, smooth surface of the flashlight. He peered over the side of the tree's base and shined the yellowish light into the flood waters, his eyes widening slightly when he noticed that they were no more than a foot below him. He continued to shine the light in different spots, sometimes finding dead rodents drifting along in the murky water, along with various pieces of debris. He put the flashlight away and laid his head atop the bag, knowing he'd have to wait until it was light again before he could move on, though if the flood waters had not receded by then, he'd probably be in for a longer wait.

However, in spite of the fact that the storm seemed to be dying, Randall wasn't entirely sure. Something just didn't feel right to him. It was calm, yes, but it was almost too calm, and the change in weather had come so suddenly. Randall craned his neck and tried to have a look through the canopy of the forest. He could vaguely make out low hanging clouds, and he was certain he could see stars in a few places. He dismissed his feelings of discomfort as he tried to rest his tired, battered body, but within about an hour's time, the moment of calm had passed, and the winds regained their strength, accompanied by a painful assault of heavy rain. Only this time it felt like the winds were blowing in the opposite direction. It was then that Randall finally realized what he had been up against all this time, and his panic swelled. This wasn't a mere storm, it was a hurricane. It was a force he was completely unfamiliar with, as he had lived too far inland to have been impacted by the hurricanes in his own world. He was able to recall memories of sitting at home, watching the weather channel and pointing at laughing at the weathermonsters as they were knocked off their feet and into a bush while reporting in the middle of a powerful coastal storm. He now had a newfound respect for those monsters.

Randall kept his eyes closed tightly as he clung to his anchor. Certainly if he could get through this, he could get through anything. With the eye of the storm having already passed over him, he knew the storm was halfway over. But as the minutes passed, Randall could feel water splashing against his tail, which he had draped over the base of the tree to alert him if the flood waters were getting too high, and it seemed that now they were. Feeling the water beginning to lap against his limbs, Randall put every last one of his hands and feet to use. With his upper sets of arms, he clung to the backpack and the cypress knees, and with his two lower sets of limbs, he clung to any and every part of the tree that was graspable. And with that, he held on for dear life.

ooooooo

Gray clouds still loomed overhead when daybreak finally came, revealing the devastation in greater detail. Leaves, tree limbs, and even entire trees were strewn about in the grayish brown water. The wind was still blowing quite strongly, but it wasn't anything like what Randall had endured during the night hours. The lizard slowly lifted his head and gazed with exhausted, bleary eyes at his surroundings. He trembled slightly, his body still in shock from the trauma it had endured for hours on end. All across his body were cuts of various sizes, all of them received from the flying debris. Part of his battered body was submerged in the muddy flood waters, but he still had just enough strength to keep his head up. Waiting for the murky water to recede was rather grueling, but the monster didn't have the strength to do much else, and he certainly wasn't about to go swimming in those waters. As another two hours ticked by, the water level dropped a few inches, just enough so that it was no longer lapping against his body.

The lizard gazed at the unclean water for the longest time as he acknowledged how dry his mouth was. He pushed himself up onto both sets of hands, his arms trembling severely as they struggled to support his weight. After another few moments of hesitation, he leaned over the base of the tree and shoved his entire head into the filthy water. He opened his mouth and drank as much as his stomach could handle, ignoring the foul taste. He knew the water needed to be purified, but it was simply out of the question. As putrid as the water was, he couldn't go without drinking something, especially considering the fact that he didn't know exactly how long he was going to be stranded on that tree.

Withdrawing his head from the water, Randall gagged and spat, devastated by the fact that he had nothing to rid himself of the foul taste in his mouth. He settled down on his stomach again, peering down into the muddy water and watching as leaves and branches drifted by. His eyes fluttered and he felt certain he would fall asleep, especially considering how much mental and physical stress he had endured the previous night. But as he continued to gaze at the surrounding flood water, he noticed something moving towards him at a rather quick pace. As it drew closer to the tree, Randall was immediately able to identify it as a snake. It slithered through the water with ease, its small elongated head held just above the water's surface. It was black in coloring and appeared to have a lighter colored underbelly. A sharp pang in the pit of his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten anything in over ten hours. He couldn't be sure if the snake was venomous, but he dismissed his fear and shot out a hand as the snake swam within reach. He grasped the tiny reptile by the neck and hoisted it out of the water. With very little effort, he pinched the snake's head between two fingers and tore it off. He then crammed the still twitching body into his mouth, sucking in the tip of its tail like a string of spaghetti. The taste wasn't anything worth getting excited over, but the small meal eased his hunger somewhat. Though now he wished he had fresh, clean water to rinse his mouth out with.

Randall settled back down onto the base of the cypress tree and closed his eyes, exhaling tiredly. He knew he would have to wait for the flood waters to recede before he made any attempt to travel, but even if the flooded terrain was not an issue, Randall just didn't think he had enough strength to make it even half a mile. His exhaustion weighed his body down, and he could do nothing more than lay his head against the backpack and rest his tired eyes, knowing full well that he wouldn't be moving from that spot for quite some time.

tbc…

* * *

**Author's Note:** I was totally listening to "God Storm" from the LoP soundtrack while writing this chapter. That track is epic.

Well, that's it for Part One. The story will now go on a temporary hiatus in order to give myself time to write Part Two. I know this first part wasn't very long, but it wasn't meant to be. Part Two will be much longer, probably 10 chapters at least, and it could very easily end up being longer than that. So far the first 3 chapters are done, and the fourth (chapter 8) is already in the works. Ideally, I'd like to wait until Part Two is complete before I start posting it, but given how long it's going to be and how much is still left to be written, I don't know that I can do that. You guys would be waiting months if I did that. I may end up having to post one half of P2 and then take another break and post the second half. I can definitely say that there won't be any updates to this story for at least a month. I haven't been able to work on the story as a whole since I first posted it because I've spent most of my free time just getting each chapter ready for the next Saturday. Now that P1 is out of the way, I can get back to work on moving the story along. Please check my tumblr periodically for updates, as any announcements regarding Part Two will be posted there.

A big thanks to all my reviewers, especially AutumnnPrincess and BadgerWolf, who reviewed faithfully from the beginning. Hope you guys will still be around for Part Two.


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